Team Free Will vs Flappy Bird
by KissMeDeadlyT-T
Summary: In which Sam and Dean show Castiel the infamous Flappy Bird and Sam's phone becomes victim of a nasty smiting. -I kinda implied destiel b/c I have a problem but it's pretty ignorable. Crack!fic with LOTS of swearing and anger.


**KissMeDeadlyT-T: I go on hiatus for ten thousand years and this is what I come back with I'm so sorry**

**Supernatural = not mine. Also I HATE FLAPPY BIRD DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT IT i needed to get some frustration out and thus i created this**

**xxXXxxXXxx**

Dean opened the sickeningly yellow door to their cheap, skeezy, pay-by-the-hour motel room, two greasy paper bags balanced on one arm and an apple pie in the palm of his other. Despite everything, he was in a good mood, and was grinning widely for the first time in maybe months - that was probably partly because of the pie he'd found at the corner store. Who knew corner stores even _sold_ awesome, homemade, _beautiful_ pies like these?

"Hey, Sam," he called into the seemingly empty room, looking around. He saw the bathroom door was closed and set the food on the table, tossing his jacket on his bed. He walked over and kicked the door. "Food's here," he said. He could hear a muttered "Fuck" and then something like a grunt and his grin morphed into a smug smirk.

"Want me to give you some alone time, Sammy?" Maybe it wasn't the best idea to tease him, considering how (rightfully) infuriated Sam was with him, but he couldn't resist.

The door flung open not a second later and Sam scowled down at him. He held up his phone with a look of disgust and threw it at his bed. "Fucking piece of shit cock-sucking fucking fucker-"

"Woah, woah, Sam." Dean didn't know whether to be shocked or start laughing. "What the hell?"

"Flappy Bird!" Sam threw his hands up and stormed off towards the table, digging through the bags for his salad. He ripped it out with a bit more force than necessary. Dean just stared. Sam turned to him, and Dean thought he saw his life flash before him - Sam's hazel eyes were narrowed and his nostrils flared, jaw set in that way it did when he was _pissed_. It was like the bitchface had eaten a Super Mushroom and amplified double its usual bitchosity. Dean subconsciously reached for the gun he still had hidden tucked under his shirt.

"What's Flappy Bird?" he asked cautiously, like Sam might start spewing backwards Latin and crawling in an upside-down bridge. Sam released a huff and grabbed his phone, shoving it into Dean's hands before flopping onto his bed and chewing his salad moodily. Dean's gaze lingered warily on him for a moment before he looked down at the phone in his hands. It was stopped on a Game Over screen with a high score of 15.

"Sam-"

"Play. The. Game. Dean."

Raising his eyebrows, Dean sat at the small table near the window. "Can I eat first?" he asked.

"_Dean_."

"Oh my god, Sam, fine." He tapped the screen. The bird flew up everytime he touched the screen, and he managed to get through the first few pipes without any trouble. "This isn't that-" A smack sound, then the bird was on the ground. "Son of a - I didn't even touch the pipe!"

"Whoever invented that game has a special place in Hell reserved for them," Sam said darkly, stuffing another forkful of lettuce into his mouth, chomping on it a bit more violently than Dean was comfortable with. He'd never seen Sam lose it over a game like this. Frowning, he looked back down at the phone.

"It can't be that bad," he said.

**xxXXxxXXxx**

A half hour later saw several death threats, the beginning of a Latin exorcism, some extremely colourful choice words that had their elderly neighbour pounding on their door and screeching at them to "shut yer darn mouths," some frustrated tears, and so many "son of a bitch!"s that Sam had started counting and ticked twenty-three lines. Dean threw the phone at Sam so hard the screen cracked. Sam didn't even bat an eyelash and just continued poking at his empty salad bowl grumpily.

"Motherfucking piece of fucking shit fucker fucking dicks, _fuck this shit who the fuck invented this fucking game_," Dean growled in one breath, panting heavily, glaring at the phone like it had threatened to start another Apocalypse. "Someone needs to _smite that fucking thing_."

There was a flutter of wings and then Cas was there, standing right in front of Dean, blade brandished. Dean jumped back and nearly fell over and added another "son of a bitch!" to Sam's list.

"Jesus fucking _Christ_, Cas-"

"Dean," Cas said reproachfully. Dean was so mad that he very nearly just punched Cas in the face because he fucking could, but he stopped himself because he didn't want a wounded pride _and_ a broken hand.

He turned on his heel and fell back into the chair at the table. He poked at his half-eaten burger violently and pretended he was stabbing the fucking bird. "Why're you here?"

Cas looked slightly offended. "Are you implying that you don't want me here?"

"No - No! Jeez, Cas, I just meant why'd you suddenly pop up?"

"I heard you say that someone needed to smite something, so I assumed…" Cas trailed off as he seemed to realize that they were in a shitty motel room and not the middle of a bloody fight. A crease appeared between his eyebrows and he let his arm fall, placing his blade on the TV stand. He looked like he was stuck between being irritated, confused, and relieved. "What needed smiting?" he asked.

Sam's voice came, quiet and dark, from his bed. He was holding his phone out towards Cas. "Take it."

Cas grabbed it and rolled it between his hands, squinting at it like it was some strange specimen that he'd never seen. "Has there been a curse placed on it?" he asked, cocking his head. Dean snorted.

"If by a curse you mean Flappy Bird, then yeah." He pushed himself up and walked over, grabbing the phone from Cas' hands. "Here," he said, unlocking the now-cracked phone and opening the game before shoving it back at Cas. "You know how to use touch screen phones now, yeah?"

"They are quite irritating and overly-sensitive and I really don't like them-"

"Just try the stupid game, Cas." Dean showed him how to tap the screen so that the bird flew. "If you get past level 15, I will honestly kneel before you. Forever."

Sam let out a huff of air through his nose as a short laugh. "You'd kneel before him for other reasons."

"Was that necessary?"

"Kinda."

Cas was staring between them, eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. Dean thanked God even though he was sure He wasn't listening. The angel stared back down at the phone. "Is the objective to get the bird through the pipes?"

"Yup. Good luck." Dean clapped him twice on the shoulder and departed back to the table to finish his burger.

The room fell mostly silent aside from Sam's surly grumbling and the occasional muttered curse from Cas. Dean very nearly shed a tear of pride when he heard an impatient "fucking hell," and almost started choking on his second burger when Cas stood up and declared, "I am going to kill whoever invented this game."

Sam snickered. "What's your high score?"

"I could not pass 15." Cas glared at the phone.

"Try again," Dean said. "I bet you can pass Sam."

Cas seemed to take it as a challenge - his eyes glinted and he looked back down at Sam's cracked screen.

The room fell into silence again. Sam took out his laptop and began furiously typing - Dean suspected he kept a diary on there or something. He grabbed his own laptop and skimmed through the news to see if he could find any cases. Every so often, he glanced back at Cas, who had taken to sitting on the edge of Dean's bed and was staring at the phone with so much concentration it actually hurt Dean's head. Cas eventually huffed and flopped onto his back, holding the phone above his face and glaring up at it. Dean turned his head to hide a smile, and went back to searching the news. The silence formed a sort-of peace over them that hadn't been there for a long time, and something inside of Dean felt a bit less broken than it had before.

The sound of a small explosion broke the silence and both Winchesters jumped. Dean's hand was already on his gun when he saw Cas sitting at the edge of his bed, looking more livid than he'd been that one time in the alley years ago. It sent shivers of unrepressed terror up Dean's spine, and he automatically tightened his grip on his gun even though he knew it was pointless. In Cas' right hand were fragments of glass and metal as smoke swirled up from what used to be Sam's cell phone.

Sam stared in horror. "Dude, my phone!"

"My apologies," Cas said, breathing heavily through his nose like a maddened bull. Dean was very nearly shitting himself. The lights were flickering, for fuck's sake.

"What the _hell_?" Sam was yelling. He tossed his laptop aside and scrambled up, staring at the fragments and ashes in Cas' hand "You smote my phone!" He looked at Dean in disbelief. "Can you believe this?"

Honestly, Dean could. He shrugged and forced a anxious 'what can you do' grin. "Kinda?"

"You owe me a new phone!" Sam yelled. He shut his laptop, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out of the room without saying anything else. Dean finally let his nervous giggle out - it came out like a loud _pffffttt_ and then he was snickering uncontrollably.

"What got you so mad?" he managed to ask.

Cas looked absolutely infuriated. "I was almost at level 16, Dean," he said. "And rest assured that the fucking bird did _not_ touch the pipe."

Dean had never laughed so hard in his life.

**xxXXxxXXxx**

**KissMeDeadlyT-T: Me too, Cas. Me too.**

**Please review if you got this far :)**

**also posted on my tumblr, bennykisses . tumblr . com !**


End file.
